


The Garden

by DHW



Series: The Garden [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 09:55:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7679875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DHW/pseuds/DHW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus Snape finds himself at The Garden and all is not quite what it seems... </p><p> </p><p>Originally written in four parts for The Perils of Veritaserum at GrangerSnape100 (2007)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters. They belong to JK Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended. I make no money from this piece of fiction

\---

“Drink. All of it.” Severus scowled at her. “Then we’ll talk.”

He gave a rather put upon sigh and tipped back the small, blue vial, emptying the entire contents into his mouth. Veritaserum. Or a very close approximation. It was tasteless, but it stuck to the back of his throat, making it feel rough and gritty. He grimaced slightly as it burned its way down to his stomach. 

“Tell me your name.”

“Severus Snape.” The words were out before he could stop them. Definitely veritaserum. 

She smiled at him. Hermione Jane Granger, Doctor of Psychology and owner of the Garden.

\---

Doctor Granger was a pretty woman. With killer curves and curls that fell to her waist. She had full lips, painted a deep red, and wide eyes with a thick, dark frame of lashes. And a voice that flowed like liquid silk. 

“Tea, Professor?” she said, her pale hands delicately pouring the dark brown liquid into two cups. She passed him the painted china, her fingertips brushing gently against the backs of his hands. 

“Thank you.” 

She smiled at him, flashing her pearly white teeth. He raised the cup to his lips, taking a tentative sip of the steaming liquid.

\---

“Tea is the favoured tipple of the soul. It should be drunk dark and strong, with just a twist of lemon. Green to the taste and bitter upon the tongue,” she said, reclining back into the leather armchair. Severus watched as her knee-length red dress rode slightly up her thighs. 

“Love and scandal are the best sweeteners of tea,” he said, his mouth dry. 

“Henry Fielding?” Severus nodded. “Well he was quite right on that account. But you didn’t come here to talk about tea. I believe we have some business to attend to.”

“And what business would that be?”

\---

“You tell me. You’re the one who sought a meeting here. People only come to the Garden for two reasons: either they want to dominate, or they want to be dominated.” She set her cup down upon the side table. “I am curious as to which category you wish to place yourself in.”

Severus coloured as he felt the pull of the veritaserum forcing him to answer. He leant forward, hiding behind a fall of long, black hair. 

“I wish to be dominated.” 

Hermione smiled, her eyebrows rising in surprise. 

“Then I shall do my best to accommodate that wish.”

\---

It seemed an odd conversation to have in a room like this. Surely these kind of conversations were kept to dark basements that had black walls with whips and chains hanging from them, not in airy wooden panelled sitting rooms with cellos playing Danse Macabre softly in the background. But, as Severus was to discover, the Garden was not all as it appeared to be. 

“Do you have a preference for a partner? We have many nice women who would be willing to accept an offer of submission from someone such as yourself. Miss Parkinson, perhaps?”

Severus shook his head.

\---

“Or maybe you would prefer a man? We hold no such prejudices here.”

Severus shook his head again. “I don’t imagine you do.”

“I would be more than willing to accept your offer, if you so desire.” She rose from her chair, circling Severus. A finger trailed up his arm and across his shoulders. He shuddered slightly. “You fascinate me, Professor. Always have done. And I want to know why you are who you are.” She leant in close, her lips almost touching his ear. “I want to know what makes you tick. Will you accept?”

“I will,” he whispered.

\---

She placed a small kiss to his neck, enjoying the gooseflesh that rose under her touch. 

 

“Excellent.” Her lips moved to his jaw line. “The terms of our arrangement: I will not partake in elimination play under any circumstances. You are to refer to me as Mistress at all times. And, you are to follow my rules. Insubordination will result in punishment. Do you agree?” she murmured against his skin, her lipstick leaving red trails. 

“I agree.” His voice sounded strained. 

“Anything to add?”

“No blood-play. My blood is my own.”

“Agreed.” She drew back. “And your name?”

“Professor.”

\---

Hermione opened the wooden box that lay upon the table beside Severus. From it she withdrew a small silver lock, a key, fine silver chain, a ribbon, a ball-point pen and a piece of parchment. 

“Sign here,” she said, holding out the piece of parchment and the pen. Severus took it, and watched, fascinated, as the inked letters of his name disappeared. 

Hermione took one length of chain and wrapped it around his neck. She snapped the lock shut around the ends of the chain. There was a flash of light, and two green letters appeared on the lock. ‘SS’

\---

Smiling gently, she threaded the key onto the length of red ribbon, placed it round her neck and tied the ends together. 

Severus belonged to her now. Her alone.

“The safe word is Foxglove. If you want to stop at any time, say it and we shall go no further.” She ran a hand through her hair, pushing the wild disarray of curls back from her face. Slowly, she walked towards the door, her heels clicking noisily upon the polished wooden floor. She grasped the golden handle and twisted it. The door swung open. “Follow me.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

And he followed.


	2. Chapter 2

\--

At nearly noon, the hallways of the Garden were flooded with light and warmth. It poured through the large bay windows, hitting the dark wooden panels that decorated the walls. 

Severus was fascinated. As often as he had seen the large, stately home from the outside, this was the first time he’d ever been inside. And it was beautiful. Oak panels covered the walls, and long red curtains adorned the windows. Vases and sculptures in all manner of styles were placed tastefully about the house. 

Truth be told, it wasn’t what he expected. 

But then again, neither was its owner.

\--

“With regards to my divorce, Molly Weasley has become a considerably wealthy woman and has no cause for complaint. She receives a fifth of all money earned from my side, not to mention the twenty thousand or so from the other half. Ginny does dote upon her so.”

Severus followed quietly behind his mistress, listening to her talk. He enjoyed the sound of her voice washing over him. It made such a change from having to use his own. 

Hermione opened a door about halfway along the corridor, motioning for him to pass through into the room that lay beyond.

\--

It was a wardrobe. 

Dozens and dozens of outfits hung neatly on rails, apparently organised by fantasy, rather than size. One entire wall seemed just to house corsets – most of them vinyl or velvet. And there were several rails of trousers, most of them with pieces of fabric cut out in strategic places.

Hermione caught him staring, and rolled her eyes. 

“This is my private wardrobe. The Garden caters to all kinds of clientele, and we do our best to make sure we are equipped to accommodate their fantasy. Most are mundane. But we do get the occasional odd request.”

\--

“Fantasies?” his voice rose a little as he spoke, embarrassed to be talking about something so intimate. 

“Yes, fantasies. We don’t simply offer sex, Professor,” she said, her voice light and airy. “If our clients were after just that, then they would be more inclined to visit one of the brothels down in Hogsmede. We offer fantasies.”

“I don’t suppose you get too much trade if you have them to compete with.”

“You would be surprised. We have a lot of interest from the higher classes. The Minister for Magic attends bi-monthly to see Pansy.”

Severus’ eyebrows rose in surprise.

\--

Hermione walked over to large, black box that lay in the corner.

“I trust I do not have to stress the importance of discretion to you. Many of the clients we entertain are in the public eye, and it would be disastrous for their reputations if such a thing were to emerge. Of course, I have taken the liberty of weaving an anti-publicity clause into the contracts, but I still prefer to make it clear to all clients that it will not be tolerated.”

“No,” he said. Hermione arched a plucked eyebrow. He corrected himself. “No, Mistress.”

She smiled indulgently.

\--

“Sit down, please.” Her tone was light, but held an edge of command. And Severus found himself obeying the order. He took a seat upon on of the straight-backed chairs in the very centre of the room and waited. 

Hermione opened the box, the soft click of the locks permeating the still air. Smiling, she reached inside and withdrew a small silver make-up case. She turned towards him, her eyes burning into his. 

“Now, my precious, beautiful pet, I do not believe we are properly attired for the game.” She trailed a finger across his cheekbone. “Shall we get ready?”

\--

Severus shivered as he saw the heat in her eyes. She kissed his lips lightly. 

“What to do with you?” she murmured against his lips sending delicious vibrations through him. “You’re such a pretty pet. So desirable. Let me play with you, darling. There will be rewards.” She drew back, studying his face intently. “You have such pretty eyes. Eyes like that need proper adornment.” 

She reached into the case, taking out a tube of mascara. He looked at the tube warily, but didn’t say anything. Hermione bit her lip as she gently applied the black liquid to his lashes.

\--

Hermione cupped his chin, tilting his face up to hers. 

“Beautiful,” she said, pleased with her handiwork. “And a little blush on those high cheekbones too, I think.” 

Carefully, after knocking the excess pink powder from the brush, she applied it along his cheekbones, giving him an unexpected glamour. 

“And your lips. I’ll give you a choice. Should it be pink for someone so pretty, or scarlet for slut?”

“L…lipstick?” came his small protest. Hermione placed a small kiss upon his nose.

“Oh yes. A lovely, rich lipstick that’ll make everyone think of kisses in naughty places.”

“Oh,” Severus groaned.

\--

Hermione painted his lips with quick, efficient strokes, the brush tickling his skin. She let go of his chin and stepped back, a feral grin gracing her features. 

“Gorgeous, Professor.” She looked down at his black robes. “But the robes really do you no justice. Take them off and I’ll find you something else.”

Severus froze, more than a little nervous about baring his body. Hermione raised an eyebrow impatiently.

“Do you refuse?”

He shook his head and slowly, against his better judgement, began to unbutton his robes.

“Good boy. You’ll make a fine pet with a bit of training.”

\--

Severus stared in horror at the clothes Hermione had given him: a corset of deep red and a pair of black, skin tight trousers.

“Breathe in.”

Severus felt the corset tighten around him, the boned leather restricting his breathing slightly. Her fingers ghosted down his sides, across his jutting hips and back towards his arse. He bit his lip as she caressed the leather-bound globes. 

“Such a pretty thing. All lip-gloss and perfume. But how utterly nasty of you. To trick people like this. Making them believe you’re not the man I know you are,” she whispered in his ear.

\--

“And you are very much a man, Professor,” she said, eyeing the bulge at his crotch. She placed a kiss on his neck, her tongue gently flicking over the soft flesh. “You look so delicious in red. And red is my favourite colour.”

She drew back from him and took his hand, guiding him towards the door. 

“Where are we going?” he said, his heavily made-up eyes going wide.

Hermione gave a little laugh, smiling rather deviously at him. 

“Why, to meet the others, of course. The Mistress has a beautiful new pet, and she desires to show him off.”


	3. Chapter 3

\---

Severus lifted his arms, inspecting a wrist with thinly veiled curiosity. Three black marks accented his skin, reminding him of his failure to comply with her wishes. Three times he had disobeyed her tonight. And she had simply smiled at him, producing a black marker from under her dress and drawing a single line on his wrist for each crime. 

“Reminders, for later,” she’d said.

And the others, those who he was being paraded to, had looked at him with a curious mixture of fear and envy. 

But that was over two hours ago, and no punishment had come. 

Yet.

\---

He stood in silence, as per his instructions, in the centre of the room. His hands were bound with a dark green silk ribbon. It slid across his skin sensuously as he moved his arms, winding like a snake around the sensitive flesh. It was a heady sensation. 

“On your knees, Professor,” she said, her hands on his bare shoulders forcing him down with an unexpected strength. He complied and her hands moved, running down the laces of his corset, barely touching the smooth, pale skin that peaked out from between the black laces. He drew in a deep breath.

\---

She picked a single whip from the glass cabinet on the wall. It was black and thin, with a twisted gold handle. She wrapped it round her hand, caressing the leather lovingly. 

“You have a choice, my dearest Professor. The whip, or my hand. Either way, you shall be punished for your disobedience tonight.”

“Not the whip,” he managed to gasp. He would much prefer her hand than the cold, hard sting of the leather. 

A small flicker of disappointment lit her eyes as she placed the whip on the floor. Or perhaps it was just the light playing tricks.

\---

Hermione knelt down behind him, her fingers drawing meaningless patterns on the underside of his thighs. He leaned back into her touch, wanting more contact, but the more he moved the further away her fingers got. 

Crack. 

Her hand came down and hot tingles of pain shot through him.

“You have been a very bad pet tonight. Disobeying me not once, but three times.” Her hand came down again. Harder this time. “And you shall be punished for it. Five strikes for each act of insubordination. Sound fair?” Her hand came down again, and Severus let out a small whimper.

\---

Her hand came down for the fourth time.

“You will answer me when I ask you a question, Professor. Does fifteen strikes seem an apt punishment? Or would you care to make it more?”

“No, Mistress,” he whispered.

She didn’t reply, she merely continued with her punishment, reddening the skin beneath his trousers. With each blow, Severus felt the sting of pain and the sweet throb of arousal, the abused skin pulsing with warmth. By the seventh blow he was biting his lip, and by the thirteenth he was barely holding back a moan.

On the fifteenth blow she stopped.

\---

Hermione’s hands began to caress his reddened arse, her fingers tracing the gentle curve. His hips flexed in automatic response. 

“You will not disobey me again. I have no tolerance for disobedient pets. And next time I may not be willing to offer you a choice in your form of punishment. Now get up. I want to see if you are ready to play, my pet.”

Severus rose to his feet, trembling slightly. Hermione smirked at him, her hands reaching for the laces of his corset. Nimbly, she began to unpick the knots, letting the material fall to the floor.

\---

She tied him to the chair, the thick cotton rope criss-crossing over his bare chest in a web of carefully crafted knots, each loose enough to be undone swiftly but tight enough to keep him from escaping. The ropes moved as he struggled. He moaned slightly as he felt the soft cotton rub over the tips of his nipples. There was a faint sheen of arousal to his pale skin and he was sweating with fear and desire. His hair stuck to the sides of his flushed face, framing it and making the high contours of his cheek-bones even more apparent.

\---

Hermione grasped the hem of her knee-length red dress, pulling it over her head in a single smooth movement. It dropped to the floor. Underneath she wore a scarlet bra and matching knickers, both made from delicate lace and cut in a way that flaunted her attributes. She didn’t remove her boots; the thigh-high red leather remained buckled neatly across the bare flesh of her legs. Her hair fell loose across her shoulders, the honeyed curls winding their way across her curves, caressing the delicate skin. 

A goddess. Severus’ mouth went dry and suddenly the world seemed a lot smaller.

\---

“I shall have no more disobedience from you tonight, my pet. If you cannot learn to keep your hands to yourself, then I shall have to resort to measures like this. Perhaps, if you promise to be good, I may untie you.” She leaned in close, her lips almost touching his ear. “But you’ll have to show me how much you want it.”

He could feel her breath hot upon his skin, and he shivered, lust-tinged sparks running down his spine. And she indulged him, her cool, perfectly sculpted hands running down his chest leaving goose-flesh in their pleasurable wake.

\---

Her fingertips brushed across the planes of his chest, her perfectly painted nails scraping over his erect nipples. She circled them gently, adding a slight pressure to the darkened patch of skin around the hard nubs. Severus leant back in the chair and his eyes rolled as sharp sparks of hot pleasure coursed through his veins. She nipped lightly at the exposed flesh of his neck, soothing the marks she made with a skilful swipe of her tongue. 

Severus gasped as her hand went lower and began to caress him though the soft black leather of his greatly tented trousers.


	4. Chapter 4

\---

Severus struggled against his bonds, his sinewy muscles flexing and contracting as he tried desperately to free himself. Hermione’s hand teased him mercilessly, her talented fingers doing breathtaking things to his skin, his lust, his head and his heart. He growled, thrusting his hips up as far as they would go, the cotton rope restricting his movements. But she kept the contact light, her palm passing slowly over the leather encased steel, keeping him hard and aching. 

“Such a hungry little pet, aren’t you? All hot and bothered,” she whispered in his ear. “And I’ve hardly even begun.” 

Severus moaned.

\---

Everything was tight: his trousers, his bonds, even his own skin. He felt strained as lust swelled up inside, threatening to burst him. He turned his head and tasted her skin for the first time. She was hot, almost burning his lips on contact, and smelt of sandalwood and sex. He added more pressure, wanting to mark her skin, but she moved away, coming to stand before him, her hand never ceasing in its teasing caresses. 

“My, my, Professor,” she purred, “no wonder you’re Head of Slytherin. A devious, manipulative bastard,” she squeezed his cock hard, “With a very…big… snake.”

\---

“Do you know how long I’ve waited to have you entirely at my mercy?” Her hands left his crotch, moving up to his chest, slim fingers twisting his nipples until it became almost agonizing. “Seven long years. I want you to pay for every little insult, every derogatory term you’ve ever uttered, and every tear you made me cry. I’m going to torture you and leave you begging for more.” She lowered her head and bit his shoulder, her teeth sinking deep into the fevered flesh. Then she released him, eyes closed, licking away the red marks she’d left.

\---

His shoulders tensed as she bit him again. Hard. Hot sparks of pain ran through his chest and down his spine, making him shudder. Pain and pleasure are close companions, and Severus felt the border between begin to merge. 

“Untie me. I want to touch you,” he breathed, his throat dry. His head lolled back, heavy with lust. 

“Oh but you are, Professor. Is it not your chest that touches my hand? I am your Mistress; we play by my rules alone, and I much prefer you bound and helpless, writhing in ecstasy. You’re so beautiful when you’re frustrated, pet. ”

\---

Hermione straddled his lap, lowering her mouth onto his in a deep, searing kiss. His lipstick became smeared across his lips and chin in light of their enthusiasm, mixing with hers, the shades creating a beautiful mauve stain across their pale skins. Her tongue vied for power with his, an indication of how difficult her pet found submission. Subconsciously he still wished for dominance. But he would learn. She would make sure of that. 

“I want you to beg, Professor,” she said, breathless as she broke away. “Beg for me.”

His dark eyes glinted, swirling with lust and defiance. 

“No.”

\---

Slowly, Hermione opened the clasp on her bra, letting the scrap of red lace fall to the floor. She began to slide her hands over the newly exposed flesh, smiling deviously as she caught Severus’ full attention. Her fingers circled the tight buds of her nipples. He moaned at the sight, hips bucking. She ground down onto him, her eyes locking with his. 

“Beg,” she growled.

His face became tight and strained – torn between his pride and getting his desire. 

“N… No,” he managed to gasp out, his head thrown back, spine arched as far as his bonds would allow.

\---

“You cannot deny it, Professor. You want me more than the water you drink and the air you breathe. I can feel it. Your desire.” She leant in close, crushing her breasts against his chest, her hips moving rhythmically against his. “But your arrogance, your ingrained taste for dominance, won’t allow you to admit it. You tell me you want to learn the art of submission, but you have yet to fully relinquish your power. You will bend to my will and beg.”

“Please, Mistress. Please,” he said, his voice tinged with desperation. 

Hermione smiled, her hand unzipping his fly.

\---

“Oh god,” Severus groaned as he felt her grasp his aching cock. His thighs tensed beneath the leather of his trousers, overcome with sensation. She ran a finger along the underside and he let out a loud moan. His pale hands balled into fists, arms still bound to his sides, and his breathing became shallow.

Hermione lifted herself off his lap, shimmying out of her red lacy knickers. She kissed him again, this time experiencing the sweet taste of submission as her tongue explored the inside of his mouth. Slowly, she lowered herself onto him, gasping as he filled her.

\---

Severus closed his eyes as he felt her wet warmth encircle him. She was tight; far tighter than he had expected. She began to move and he bit his lip, trying to quash the almost overwhelming sensation of pleasure that coursed through his veins. 

“Open your eyes, Professor.”

The command was quiet but powerful. He opened his eyes and found himself staring into her cinnamon ones, caught by her unwavering gaze. Their depths swirled with lust, pleasure and a deep affection. His heart lurched in his chest.

She shattered around him, crying out his name, and moments later he followed.

\---

She leant against him, spent and lethargic, her forehead touching his. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was heavy. Severus watched as her skin shimmered in the light, slick with sweat and pleasure. She stirred slightly, her soft curls gently tickling his bare chest. 

“Oh, Severus,” she said, her voice hoarse. She made a soft, low purr of contentment. 

“Hermione, I…”

She stopped him mid sentence, placing a small, chaste kiss upon his scarlet lips. 

“I know. You will return tomorrow?” It was not a command. 

“Yes,” he said, a small smile curving the edges of his mouth, “Mistress.”


End file.
